You start a new poem with such eager ease,
The words flow like a torrent from your mind.
Then you read the rhyme that has formed,
On the paper in front of you,
And find the text,
Does not show what you meant.
Some words are changed from fresh ideas
That come from a new found river in your mind.
Yes that is better, you think to yourself,
As the page, shows the better sense,
Of the altered words
Read on this newly revised page.
But the words that you dismissively changed,
Garnered from the reservoir of your mind
And substituted for those more apt,
What happened to them?
Is it really that,
There is a place where all the lost words go?
-
Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 19th, 2020 01:27
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments4
It's said that nothing is ever erased from our minds, that it's all in there somewhere. When trying to remember, e.g. a name of someone, we may not recall it at once, but maybe hours or even couple of days later - from the depths of our mind. Unless empty-headed (no change there then?! lol).
It's said that nothing is ever erased from our minds, that it's all in there somewhere. When trying to remember, e.g. a name of someone, we may not recall it at once, but maybe hours or even couple of days later - from the depths of our mind. Unless empty-headed (no change there then?! lol).
Dry true Orchi, sometimes it is three o’clock in the blessed am that I remember things!
Andy
Yes, I collect them. I run around in the early hours and wave my wordnet wildly in the hope of inspirational gain.
Well, that's my story for today anf i'm sticking to it. I collected some beauties earlier,... watch out for them in the near future.
Great 'off the wall' subject from you today - love it.
Can I borrow some if I run out d a.
Thanks d a,
Andy
Choose from these.... anal.... bubonic....crumpet....defoliate....erstaz.... fluctuate.... germinate... hump....inseminate....jack....kilo....lumpy.....mentionable......nubile.....oh...pee....queue.....ripple .....stoat... teet.... uvuncular.... vermin.... whinney... xylophonic..... yew... zygomycota......
Many of those are words i have been trying to give away......
1 more comment
I like to think that, like in Borges' story The Library of Babel, all possible versions of your poem exist until you, like some anti-intellectual barbarian, destroy all the versions but the one that's left. Thanks for your thoughtful little poem and for not destroying the last version.
Thank you jar her, each version is kept for future reference.
Andy
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